Death It's a Rough One, Isn't It?
by How Many Seconds
Summary: No one can prepare for death, it's not something anyone can do; this situation is no exception(M/MA)


**Authors Notes:**

**Disclaimer: These characters are _not_ my own****, they were created by Robert Popper. No copyright infringement intended, no profit being made.**

**Rated M/MA: for descriptions of brain cancer, traumatic events and swearing.**

**A Friday Night Dinner FanFiction.**

**For some odd reason, my line breaks will not save when I edit documents so I will keep trying to get this issue resolved; i****n the meantime, enjoy and thank you for reading.**

**To understand this story, I Felt the Symptoms of No Hope and A Mess should be read.**

* * *

_Days had ticked-said days appearing to have been an amount of several months- since Jonny had started his chemotherapy treatments, his relatives still struggling to believe that he had been diagnosed with cancer; it was obvious they felt remorseful and upset about the circumstances, despite there being nothing they could do to change whatever was happening. Thankfully- after his first session of chemotherapy- Jonny had been allowed to return home, provided he remained rested and took care of himself; this had- somewhat- managed to improve his mood and he had decided to take a longly needed shower, hoping to relax himself and receive some privacy to think: considering he hadn't been able to be alone for some time due to the irritating mothering he had received from his relatives. Yes, it had been a difficult few days and all he wanted to do was just forget the whole ordeal. _

_Sighing, thankful to- finally- be alone, Jonny stepped into the shower and let the warm water caress his rough skin, letting out an exhausted sigh. However- despite how hard he tried to quieten his mind- tormenting thoughts and thoughts of the future persisted, he couldn't stop thinking about what was to come. Fucking hell, he was so scared of what was happening and what he had been told- he knew he would find himself counting each treatment given when it regarded his cancer and the amount of times he would have to go through excruciating pain and horrible side effects caused by the _"treatment."_ Worst of all, he couldn't even escape the emotional side effects caused by his cancer: this seemed to be his own personal hell. To worsen his situation: whenever he talked to his relatives, he knew they saw him as breakable and vulnerable- it seemed that all they saw was the cancer- all their unusual delicate touches and uncommon soft voices told him he was seen differently to them, now. He felt completely different and he hated how shit _"life"_ was becoming. The situation made him feel- physically- nauseated. _

_Attempting to distract his mind from the sensation of nausea: Jonny collected the bottle of shampoo from the storage container and squirted a little of the liquid into his hands before closing his eyes in attempts to protect them for the substance. Placing his hand within the water in attempts to make the substance wetter and easier to use- knowing that his hair was matted, considering it hadn't been washed in a little while- Jonny started combing his hands through his hair, applying the substance as he did so. As he did so, he felt something within his palm and desperate to understand what it was- his heart clenching upon understanding that it couldn't be anything else except what he had just happened to touch- he forced his eyes open, despite having to let the liquid into his eyes while doing so: which happened to cause intense stinging. Upon opening his eyes, Jonny- slowly- opened his palm revealing a considerable amount of his brown hair that stuck to his skin; swallowing, he watched as the hair became caught in the flow of water- that flowed down his skin- and entered the drain, as though it had never been attached to his scalp in the first place._

_Quickly exiting the shower, not even bothering to clutch a towel to his skinny frame in attempts to cover himself- Jonny felt his heart- physically- sinking, desperately searching for the bald patch left within his head of hair, searching for whereabouts the considerable amount had come from. Seconds later: Jonny found the bald patch within his hair and became distraught, unable to believe this was- actually- happening; the fucking chemotherapy was beginning to affect his hair, his fucking shitting _hair_. His hair was something that allowed him to hide his cancer to those that didn't know about his condition; however- now- it was beginning to fall out, he was beginning to lose his only protection: the only thing that provided him with secrecy was beginning to disappear. Placing his shaking hands upon the sinks rim- clutching at the rim with whitening knuckles- Jonny felt tears threatening his eyes, causing him to come to the obvious realisation that he wanted to cry. Observing himself within the mirror- seeing how ill he actually looked: the blackened circles seen beneath his porcelain eyelids, the shrunken skin seen upon his cheeks and the fact he was- now- beginning to lose his hair just caused his entire self-esteem to diminish. He felt nauseous upon looking at himself within the mirror- his lower lip quivering as he did so, which he had to bite upon to still- and believed he would- without doubt-vomit within the toilet basin. Instead of vomiting, he felt his knees buckling due to exhaustion causing his knees to hit the floor with an uncomfortable thud, his body slumping against the sinks leg-sobs escaping his bitten lips, tears wetting his cheeks with speed as his parents and older brother sped up the staircase. _

Alike routine, it had become Elizabeth's job to bathe Jonny when he appeared too _"weak"_ to do so himself: something that- also- managed to irritate him. Collecting the wash cloth within her hands, Elizabeth dipped it within the water- waiting until it became drenched- then, started mopping at Jonny's skin with the wetted object, being as careful and tender as possible: wanting to make him as comfortable as possible. Attempting to distract her mind from the stench of sick- which was a common scent around Jonny- Liz collected the bottle of wash cream from the storage container and squirted a little of the liquid onto the cloth before caressing Jonny's skin with the- now- lavender scented object, starting the process with his arms and chest. Noticing how weakened Jonny had become- due to his recent vomiting episode- Elizabeth helped Jonny lean forward in order for her to clean his back.

"If you want to leave- if you want to back out of the situation- I will understand." Jonny suddenly stuttered, softly: voice still a little hoarse after his recent episode of vomiting-interrupting his girlfriend's actions- look focused upon the white ceiling due to his inability to look his girlfriend within the eyes, not wanting her to see his upset.

"What?" Questioned Liz, eyebrows becoming raised with confusion-abandoning the wash cloth within the water- dumbfounded by her boyfriend's statement. Jonny- knowing this was difficult for Liz- allowed his look to refocus upon her, the unhappiness within her eyes threatening to break him.

"I understand you're struggling to handle this; you have been for months. I don't blame you, it's too hard."

"I'm fine." Liz assured, placing a stern- yet delicate- hand upon her boyfriend's shoulder, attentions diverted towards him and him, alone.

"Jonny, what are you trying to say?" Jonny shrugged, not really knowing- himself- what he was trying to say, only knowing that this topic of conversation was upsetting for both of them.

"I- I suppose I don't understand why. Why are you insistent on caring for me, like you are? I don't understand how and why you don't see me as a burden." Finally- not able to continue looking at his girlfriend's somewhat confused, upset expression- Jonny's look turned to his hands, which were now becoming wrinkled due to the amount of time they had been underwater. Removing her hands from Jonny's shoulder, Elizabeth clutched his hands and chin- causing him to stare her within the eyes.

"You're not a burden, Jonathan. I am here for you because I love you. I understand our past dating experiences weren't fantastic but these past months have been the best for me: cancer or no cancer, I love you." Jonny swallowed, hard: thankful to have a partner as loving and caring as Elizabeth- despite her words doing very little to stop his thoughts of being a burden to each person he knew.

"Come here." Elizabeth ordered- being soft with her words- unfolding a towel from the drying rack, offering Jonny a hand when exiting the bath which he accepted. Once out of the bath, Elizabeth wrapped the towel around Jonny's thin frame and allowed him to clutch her chest, caressing his back as he cried: sobs escaping his bitten lips, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions he was feeling. Despite the wetness of Jonny's body, Elizabeth allowed him to cry into her chest- noticing as he clutched her t-shirt tighter- hugging his skinny frame, feeling as though he'd dissipate within her arms if she loosened her hold: her own tears staining her cheeks. Cries shook Goodmans skinny frame as he sobbed, the sound of said sobs echoing off the tiled bathroom walls. This was _horrible_ for Liz to witness, she'd never seen her lover so broken and upset before- not even when his cancer had become worse or whenever the doctors had told him he had no chances of survival; the amount of emotional exertion she was seeing was an _obvious_ example of how difficult these events had been for him.

"I'm sorry, Liz; I'm- so fucking sorry." Jonny apologised between hiccups that continued to wrack his chest, said hiccups being an obvious pain for him. However, whatever Jonny was apologising for? Elizabeth didn't know.

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, Jonny." Elizabeth assured, hugging her lover as his sobs started to ease even more so: her nose nuzzling his bald head, the breath upon his skin being soothing- despite alerting him to the fact he had lost all of his hair a few weeks prior to now. Thankfully-after noticing his hair loss and how his balding had affected his self-esteem- Liz had decided to shave her own hair in attempts to support her partner and show him it was ok to experience loss of hair, as well as purchasing them matching beanies whenever he felt like concealing his head.

_Elizabeth placed her shaking hands upon the sinks rim, anxiousness causing her to tremble- clutching at the rim with whitening knuckles- Liz felt tears threatening her eyes, anxiousness and terror threatening to cause her to cry. Observing herself within the mirror- understanding how losing his hair had affected Jonny and how he had become bald-Liz came to the conclusion that this'd be difficult to do, whether or not it was for Jonny's sake and security. _

"_Oh, shit." Whispered Liz, clutching the mechanical hair clippers within her sweat-coated hands, her heart colliding against her chest: trying to picture what she'd look like while bald. Of course, she _had_ cut her hair quite short in the past- without the aid of a hairdresser- but that wasn't as serious as _completely_ shaving her head. What if she- once again- looked like a man? What if Jonathan lost his attraction for her? She had remained loyal towards her partner, despite whatever had happened- she continued to love him, unconditionally. However- due to past experiences- Elizabeth was becoming uncertain that he'd continued to love her if her appearance changed. _

"_No, Jonny's not like that." Releasing a deep breath, Liz turned the tap on- hoping to think _nothing_ of the amount hair she was about to lose: fucking shit, it was only hair, it was only her fucking shitting hair- and pushed the power button on, unprepared for the strong vibrations of the clippers which caused her anxiousness to increase. Holding the machine close to her head- Elizabeth clenched her eyes closed, momentarily- and in a rapid movement created a tight, scalp-showing track within her hair: most of the hair missing the sink and hitting the floor, instead. Opening her eyes, Elizabeth covered her mouth with a trembling hand- dumbfounded and stunned at what she had just done to her fucking shitting hair- but understood that Jonny hadn't had the chance to choose whether or not he lost his hair, thus proceeded with what she was doing: anxiousness persisting as she continued. Continuing with the shave- watching as her hair was lost stroke by stroke- Liz sighed, withholding the strength she had had before beginning the process; thankfully- after a little while- she began to relax and continued as though the shaving was a natural activity for her. When she was finished with the shave, all that was left was hair upon the floor and sink: Elizabeth's head being- completely- empty of hair, except tiny dark stubbles that were her roots. _

_Observing herself within the mirror- Elizabeth sighed, realising how different she appeared to be- though, allowed herself to smile understanding that she had done good for her boyfriend._

* * *

Observing himself within the bedroom mirror, preparing himself for bed- unable to see himself with the mirror, only able to see the symptoms of cancer- Jonny reminded himself of how much of a burden he had become to those he loved; he was certain most only stayed due to their pity and remorse for him. He felt nauseous upon looking at himself within the mirror, understanding what he had become; despite them saying otherwise, it appeared his relatives and friends only saw him as a cancerous patient, nothing more: even he- himself- was unable to see past the cancer. Their presences within his life were caused by pity and remorse, nothing more and looking at himself within the mirror only remained him of such facts. The fact Elizabeth had had to bathe him earlier only worsened the situation, knowing the cancer had caused him to lose _everything_, even himself: he- once- lived by himself in an apartment, he- once- was able to drive his car to and from work and he was- once- able to have his independence before his diagnosis. Now, the simplest things in life- things he didn't even realise he enjoyed before their current absence- had gone.

Going to bed himself- deciding it best to remain within his parent's home, considering the circumstances- Adam noticed his brother's actions and entered the bedroom, raising an eyebrow unsure of what his brother was doing.

"Are you ok?" Adam questioned, placing a hand upon his brother's skinny shoulder- noticing as he flinched away from the touch- attentions still not focused upon Adam. Adam quickly realised Jonny was having one of those moments: one of those moments when Jonny refused to be talked to, one of those moments when Jonny became frozen and unaware of all others trying to help him, one of those moments when Jonny became lost in his cancer diagnosis and decided to overthink _everything_. However- as Jonny began to speak- Adam realised he couldn't have been more wrong.

"Why- how- _why_ are you _all_ doing this?" Jonny's voice was darkened and hollow, concealing none of the frustrations he felt when regarding his circumstances: his eyes- seemingly- empty as he looked up at his older brother.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't cure _or_ help me, Adam." As Jonny said- no, _spat_\- the words, Adam felt as though a knife had been _plunged_ into his chest.

"I-I-" Stuttered Adam- reaching to stroke his brothers back, trying to calm him- Jonny moving in attempts to escape his brother, throwing his arms within the air with little care for how his actions were _"hurting"_ his brother.

"How can _anyone_ love or care about _this_?!" Ordered Jonny, voice becoming raised- a look of discontentment with himself evident within his expression- hitting his chest with each word spoken.

"I fucking _hate_ myself, Adam; I'm so disfigured, it's fucking shitting ridiculous that others still care. Why are they still here when I am like I am? Fucking _why_?!" Adam's eyes became widened as his brother lunged for him, clutching him by the collar, though- not managing to hurt him: considering his weakened state- desperation within his expression: his eyes widened, his lips being bitten and chewed, his eyes filling with tears.

"Jonny-"

"It's pity; you pity me, that's all- that's the only reason why you're here. It's _nothing_ more than pity and remorse!"

"Even Elizabeth-" Jonny stopped- swallowing, hard- feeling his knees buckling due to exhaustion, Adam watching as he fell: only just managing to catch his little brother before he hit the bedroom floor. "I don't want to die, Adam; I've got an entire life to live, I-" Unable to contain the overwhelming amount of sadness he was feeling, another episode of crying began; tears wetted his cheeks in seconds, sobs escaping his lips- despite his attempts at containing himself by biting his lip, 'til it bled- as Adam held him within a supportive hold. Cries shook Jonny's skinny frame as he sobbed, the sound of Jonny's sobs causing his older brother to begin crying- his forehead rested against his little brother's bald head, unable to remain up straight itself- the tears slipping onto his brother's scalp. Not knowing what to do to support himself, Jonny clutched at Adams pyjamas- not caring if he tore them- wanting to be held as close as possible to his brother's chest. This was _horrible_ for Adam to witness; he'd never seen his younger brother so broken and upset before- not even when he had binned Pandy in the outside bins when they were children- and it made him certain that Jonny would vomit due to how upset he was. Unfortunately, instead of a vomiting episode, another seizure commenced- alike those Jonny had experienced at the beginning of his diagnosis- Jonny's body beginning to contort: muscle spasms tormenting each of his limbs. Spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth, leaking onto his brothers once-clean pyjamas: though- in this moment- Adam didn't care for the state of his pyjamas but the state of his brother, who was now seizing within the cradle of his knees. Adam cringed- noticing as the veins upon Jonny's hands and neck became prominent- understanding that Jonny needed immediate medical attention as it was very likely his cancer was worsening.

"_Mum_!"

* * *

Adam kept glancing down at his right wrist, wanting to know how long he would have to remain within the waiting room: wanting nothing but to see his ill brother; alas- the more he observed his watch- the more he watched the minutes tick, the more his anxiety persisted. Throughout their mother's and father's absences, Adam had done his best to reassure Liz- who had accompanied him to the hospital- despite his feelings of anxiousness and had tried his best to lie, saying Jonny was going to be _"ok."_ Fucking shit- after what he had recently witnessed, he understood his brother wasn't _"ok-"_ and after what he had recently witnessed, he wouldn't be surprised if his brother wasn't able to live throughout the next few weeks. Thankfully, the remainder of the Goodmans had- eventually- arrived, accompanied by Eleanor, who was- also- dressed in her pyjamas, each wanting to understand how severe Jonny's condition had become. Every time Adam felt their presences quelling his anxiety, he would observe his watch- wanting to know how long he would have to remain within the waiting room before being allowed to see his ill brother- and would return to square fucking one. Of course, he wasn't alone when feeling such anxiety but- despite his: mother, father and grandmother feeling the effects of the emotion- he couldn't help but feel abandoned and alone in the situation.

"Doctor?" Whispered Jackie: her voice strained and without moisture, making it difficult to listen to. "Please, how is Jonny?" Dr. Khean swallowed, wincing at the mention of his current patient: Jonny Goodman; his condition had- significantly- worsened and it was becoming surprising how long he had lived with a cancer as aggressive and large as his. Each of the Goodman's eyes observed the doctor's solemn expression, they had seen that expression several times beforehand- Dr. Khean was Jonny's permanent doctor- they had first seen that expression when Dr. Khean had first diagnosed Jonny with brain cancer; this expression was not positive, Jonnys condition was worsening. Upon noticing the doctor's expression, Adams thoughts became relentless. He couldn't accept the thought of Jonny having little time to left to live, let alone having to believe that his condition had worsened: reducing the amount of time they each had left with him.

"Come." Dr. Khean motioned for the relatives to accompany him to the Relatives Room: a room in which things could be talked about- openly- without the interruption of other patients, a room in which things could be talked about with privacy and security. The Goodmans- despite wanting to see Jonny- followed Dr. Khean and each located a seat that they could sit upon in order to speak with him, each anxious to hear what he was about to say.

"I do apologise for what I am about to say, Mr. and Mrs. Goodman-" Dr. Khean exhaled- the exhale being deep and holding an obvious amount of emotion- as he sat alongside Adam, facing each of the relatives who were attentive and awaiting what was about to be said. "But the pressure within Jonny's brain has- significantly- increased. It's only a matter of time. His organs are failing- even his lungs- which have decreased the levels of oxygen he is managing to receive; he has started experiencing the death rattle: the noise one makes when they're reaching the end of their lives. The death rattle occurs due to one's inability to clear one's throat of saliva- reducing their ability to swallow and cough- which manages to affect their breathing. His blood pressure levels are way too high which is something that we can't amend, despite our attempts at reducing his blood pressure level we've been unable to do s-" Despite his attempts to listen, Adams hearing was becoming incoherent- as though he were underwater- his heart increasing its beats upon understanding what was happening to his younger brother. He understood his mother and father understood what was happening, too: Jackie's hands were beginning to shake and odd sobs escaped her lips, on the occasion; Martin- on the other hand- was doing his best to soothe his wife: dumbfounded and unable to believe what was happening, not knowing what else to do other than sit within silence. Elizabeth- alike Jackie- sobbed, a shaking hand clutching her mouth in attempts to remain composed and contained; being embraced by a very concerned Eleanor, who was taking a little while to react herself- likely shocked by the circumstances.

"What do you mean? _"It's only a matter of time"_?" Martin- eventually- spoke-eyebrows raised in the doctors direction- despite understanding what the doctor meant.

"I am sorry."

"Don't-"  
"Each of you should start preparing yourselves."

"No-" Adam interjected, then found his voice- unintentionally- rising, frustrations evident within his clenched fists: which his mother had to stroke in attempts to calm him, despite her current unhappiness.

"Two months; _two_ months is what you gave him! Not a fucking month and a week. What about the other weeks you promised him?"

"It's been a month and a week since that meeting, Adam. I understand it's difficult for you but those days were just approximate. Sometimes we can't anticipate worsen-"

"You can't _"anticipate"_?" Adam shot up within his seat, a desire to strike the doctor within the face evident within his clenched fists and increased breathing rate; it was obvious Dr. Khean was becoming uncomfortable with Adams aggressiveness- though remained composed- adjusting strands of his hair that had fallen in front of his face. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?!"

"Adam-" Elizabeth whispered- between sobs- trying to pull him back into his seat in order for him to calm himself, not wanting _this_ to be happening: not like this.

"I'm sorry but the entire ordeal has been _exhausting_ for Jonathan. I'm surprised he's managed to survive up until now; the recent seizure he experienced took a lot of energy, most of which I'm surprised he had. He has been battling with pain for months and he's- currently- in too much pain to continue as it is and his body understands this. There's little we are able to do to stop whatever is happening; all we are able to do is give him morphine, which we have done." Breathing heavily with frustration and upset, Adam released the clutch his fingertips had upon his fists and let his hands relax: revealing horrible dents upon his skin when he reopened his hands. Feeling sick and exhausted, Adam sighed- a deep, upsetting sigh- tears wetting his cheeks as he internally battled- and failed- to keep his emotions under control.

"He's my little brother, I _can't_ lose him now. If I lose him, I risk losing myself and I'm not ready to do that." Jackie observed the still-standing form of her oldest son, placing a hand upon his arm- causing him to flinch from the touch- his knees threatening to buckle due to how sick and exhausted he had become upon hearing the news.

"I just can't." Adam repeated, opening the door to the office and exiting without further words: not wanting to remain within the hospital in order to see his younger brother die, especially when he no idea how little time Jonny had left. He could die tomorrow and that'd break him, _everything_ he wanted to fix and couldn't would be left unsolved: he didn't have the time to express how much love he had for Jonny, he didn't have the time to express how sorry he was for all the mistakes he had made in the past and in the present, and he didn't have enough time to tell Jonny how much he- _actually_\- needed and appreciated him: how much he had _always_ needed and appreciated him, no matter the circumstances. For fuck sakes, Jonny was his younger brother and Adam couldn't bear the thought of losing his youngest and _only_ brother, his youngest and only _sibling_. It- physically- hurt to even _think_ about it.

* * *

_Days had ticked- said days appearing to have been few hours- and Jonny had become so weakened that: he was awake very little, he ate very little and he spoke very little due to how exhausted he had become. Throughout the days, the Goodmans- with the exception of Eleanor- had rarely left Jonny's bedside, the doctors allowing them to remain with him throughout such an extensive amount of time, the doctors understanding the relative's desires to be there for him throughout his final days of life. When it came to Jonny, the doctors were- often- considerate when allowing the Goodmans to stay with him; even if doctors offered to stay with him while the Goodmans returned home to rest, the Goodmans- especially Adam- became reluctant and remained where they were. Soon- several days after receiving the news that Jonny had little time remaining- it had become apparent to the Goodmans that Jonny was too exhausted and weakened to continue and the time to bid him farewell and say their goodbyes had come. Jackie- upon coming to this realisation- had been unable to stop her weeping and had clutched her husband like a new born babe- attempting to clutch onto reality- still unable to believe what was happening. Martin- upon coming to this realisation- did his best to soothe his wife: dumbfounded, tears wetting his cheeks. Elizabeth- upon coming to this realisation- sat alongside Adam, pressing a kiss to Jonny's forehead in a tender gesture, clutching Eleanor's hand: stroking the back of it with her thumb. _

_After receiving his farewells from Eleanor and Elizabeth- who had taken a little while to explain her love for her boyfriend- Jonny turned his attentions to his parents and older brother, turning his head a little-despite his exhaustion- in order to look at each of them, offering them a soft smile. Jackie- desperate to comfort her son- placed a soothing hand upon his thin arm, offering him a soft smile: despite her unhappiness. Martin- too- offered his son a soft smile- clutching his wife's waist- sighing as he stood alongside his son's bedside, not wanting to witness his death. _

"_Hi-" Jonny breathed- intaking a breath of oxygen- voice without moisture, coarse and difficult to listen to considering the audible dryness of his throat. Adam attempted to smile- biting his lip in attempts to contain his tears- but found tears wetting his cheeks, upon seeing and hearing his brother so ill. _

"_Hi, Jonny-" Adam swallowed, eyes filled with desperation- wanting nothing but to have further days with his little brother- this wasn't fair. _

"_I'm sorry; I understand this has- been hard for you, I wish I could-" Jonny sniffed- small tears rolling down his tilted cheek- his breaths struggled: becoming inaudible. _

"_I lo- I love you, Jonny; I'll miss you." Adam sobbed, voice cracking- his breaths inaudible and shaken- as his brothers eyelids started to rest. _

"_It'll be ok, Ads." Whispered Jonny, making a _lot_ of effort to keep his eyes open but to little avail: it was obvious he just didn't have the strength, he was mustering all he had to merely talk. _

"_But you're my little brother, Jonny and I can't lose you." _

"_It's just too soon." Jackie agreed, her ability to talk becoming reduced due to the sobs that tormented her chest. "It's too soon." Martin repeated, shaking his head in disagreement to his son's beliefs: they weren't going to be "ok," not without Jonathan. _

"_It's not fair, Jonny; I can't do this without you. You're the best part of me." Adam whispered, leaning his forehead against Jonny's in a brotherly display of love- his tears falling onto Jonny's porcelain skin._

"_As are you, Adam; I have loved and always appreciated you but I'm so tired." Jonny's breaths- significantly- slowed, his eyelids becoming rested and still. _

"_Don't, please just stay with me."_

"_I'm sorry, I love you all." Jonny managed before allowing his breaths to cease, the rise and fall of his chest stopping and the beeps of the monitors becoming constant: the flatlining tone entering the room for minutes before a nurse disconnected the machinery. _

"_Jonny, please-" Whispered Adam, expecting a response from his brother- his tears continuing to wet his brother's forehead- his expression contorting, not wanting to believe his brother was dead._

"_Mummy, please; _please_ make him wake up." Before Jackie could even attempt to comfort her distressed son, Adam felt himself breaking down: sobbing- uncontrollably- becoming desperate for air that didn't come._

* * *

**End. I hope you enjoyed this series. **


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